As Jesus once wrote in the dirt
With wisdom a silent covert
He challenged the crowd
Not speaking aloud
As Mercy soaked a land that thirsts
Did He write of the Law or a plea
Or note what the stoners would see?
With grace He forgave
And lives that He’d save
Revealed what true justice should be
The ignorant sin and the bold
By Jesus were greatly retold
To turn from the wrong
Repent and belong
To a Love that is greater than gold
Did Jesus write the Law of Moses
As the Book of Numbers discloses
Echoes of the stoning
For Stephen no postponing
On the grave lain stone roses
In this free-floating pericope
The question has to be
Where is the john
The adulteress had known?
A name overtly written to see?
Maybe one by one
That's why they flee from The Son
Slumping off guiltily
Their demeanor is easy to see
Their sin the smoking gun
No books He did write
With water He didn't baptize
We are His hands and feet
We are His voice when we preach
To the masses that ostracize
As long as the wind still blows
His words will still reecho
In the dreams we forget when we wake
In the thoughts that dip and surface.
"Africa must unite
We have the resources
We have the manpower
Only unity remains"
These words will fly with the Monsoon
Across the plains of South Sudan, Cameroon
Climb the hills of DR Congo, walk the lonely deserts of Libya
Drift through the woods of Mozambique, through Ethiopia’s.
They will reecho in Somalia’s savannah
Breathe through the Sahel, Nigeria’s deep oil fields
Flow with the Yenge River of Sierra Leone
Until we hold them close, and call them our own.
And maybe then, in silent knowing
We’ll find the meaning we kept postponing.
My spirits are crushing -
Anxiety, blushing,
Giving words to depression's dissertation.
And in activity, haunting -
The threat is there, taunting,
Praying for a moment's isolation.
Through the journeys I'm hiding -
An escape that I'm striving,
Postponing that self aggravation.
But with darkness, approaching -
Lost minutes to poaching,
Coming home, the last destination.
Can someone give me the email of someone I’d like to know?
So I can send them my regards
then watch our effortless correspondence.
Could someone pass on the number of the people I’d like to know?
I can ring them day or night,
always postponing the half hour hang up ritual.
By tomorrow, I’d like a letter on my desk
from a person I’d like to know.
Folded with creases
Opening it like a game of pass the parcel
Written on torn paper
Several notes sweep out and slide
Away from me
The people I’d like to know
Could the person I’d like to know give me a wave when we pass on the street?
I’ll wave back, I promise.
If you want more consider looking elsewhere
for the people you’d like to know.
The juices are flowing
Out my butt it’s flowing
The stink surely is growing
The end is near i am hoping
The poos are floating
As they keep going
I begin to wonder will it ever stop exploding
For the pain has me moaning
On my phone diagnosing
The research is undergoing
My ignorance is showing
For I don’t know why my butt is unloading
The doctor call i continue postponing
As my juices stay a flowing…
"On the rocks?", the bartender called,
As I asked for a double Scotch,
To revive my spirits keel-hauled.
By my sleepy shift on night-watch.
On the rocks the liquid gold poured
Making the cold hard ice cubes clink.
Drowner of sorrows, now on board,
Dismay was dragged back from the brink.
On the rocks the ship did flounder
With no stormy tempest in sight,
With watch asleep, the rocks found her,
Not at night, but in broad daylight.
On the rocks now, the storms will rage,
Mercilessly blasting their might,
Building seas, to roaring rampage,
Defying quaffs to set things right.
On the rocks, becalmed distraction
Leaves sails flapping, wanting a breeze
Postponing the need for action,
To get relief and be at ease.
On the rocks, cold as cubes of ice,
Enticing Scotch will not suffice.
I didn't get to know You, Milt, I now regret
Postponing reading soup's delights with "not just yet".
Drowned in a busy whirlpool, lost in mundane maze,
Wish I followed Your work that set PS ablaze.
Wish I engraved Your graceful gifts in my mind -
Your poignant, subtle, warm-hearted take on mankind.
I'll read Your poems as a consolation prize,
To envision the world - You cherished - through Your eyes.
January 1, 2023
I know like a solvable sum
Every Samson’s riddle bum
Roaming our banal slum
Besides my tricky chum
With his insincere dum-dum–dum!
Not in his favor
His ear- assaulting chewing gum,
A thing to not savor
His disquieting rum…
If not slapping some drum,
Strangers asking where they came from,
Glowering at the seemingly dumb.
Sometimes, touching tunes does hum
But with a face decidedly glum
And not infrequently hitting his mum
For recklessly postponing his plum.
.
The one who eats
doesn't do none than feed
his wolves pack...
The one who drinks,
quenches the thirst of his
inner rivers...
The one who dreams,
crosses his inner world
and arrives where
he doesn't wait...
One who thinks
travels in itself
cleaning up dirt
brightening dark
setting purposes...
He who shuts up, grinds
the unspoken words and
forms crystals of ideas...
He who lives thus,
is always postponing death... !
14 years confused on a pitch without the goals
never knowing how I fell through so many holes
as each I fell through another would unfold
the brain just couldn't process storing in the vault
to later analyse and process the result
but storage overflowed and the circuit cut short
a breakdown stopped their process postponing the report
the brain was overwhelmed from continuous assault
it's called a mental breakdown retreat from the revolt
rebooting only vital zones and limiting your thoughts
thanks to overwhelming stress continuous and cold
flight or fight for too long sees hormones flood the skull
changing how the mind works and the person on the whole
misdiagnosed depression through symptoms it unrolls
but rain floods are not a sea these hormones will dissolve
psychiatric injury doesn't stay until you're old
it's not a mental illness that doctor can't solve
injuries repair themselves, a bruise a scar a hole
people caused your pain, don't let them be involved
Red grows politically angry
about wealthy society's conspiracy
to keep my ego away
from health's abundant wealth.
Blue spreads out
economically fearful of anger's power,
my own loss of leftbrain control,
most times less,
sometimes more
than terrifying competitive victory,
unhealthy monopolization
of light and power,
wealth accumulated
by neglecting
postponing
preempting HaveNot wishes,
accelerating Earth abusive investments
of a powerful
and punishing
highly narcissistic
inhumane
pissed off
judgmentally quivering society,
blatantly unsustainable.
Green ecological relationships
remain hopeful
the conjunction of two polarizing
paralyzing negatives,
anger and fear,
like two negatives
equaling a positive,
will produce healthier wealth,
Not more political envy
and economic greed;
but heavenly peace
through nonviolent EarthJustice.
The March
The best-designed plans
have the tendency
to not materialize.
Plan B and plan C
is the smoke of despair.
Overcoming obstacles,
try a new plan again
that doesn´t include
a third individual.
Postponing your journey
until the sunlit days
turn into fog and
a miasma of precipitation.
It rains on your parade
the triumph of the will
not yours
has won.
not easily dissuaded
but recently persuaded
to oscillate in ways
living my lingering days
all bets are off
often I have scoffed
demeaning my demise
postponing I trivialize
I have a list to ask
prioritized by task
listings I'll conceive
or perhaps believe
would homelessness set me free
reality does not deceive
or should I ponder yonder
while continuing to wander
the bucket I shall kick it
for my Savior is the ticket
it’s become clear to me
it's Glory I need to see
Today's another frigid Winter day,
there are no signs that Spring is on its way.
For it is much the same as yesterday,
sunshine and flowers seem so far away;
snow-covered playgrounds lack children at play.
Salmon aren't yet swimming upstream to spawn,
although bears count on this phenomenon.
And all hopes for an early Spring are gone;
it's a sure sign that Winter's hanging on.
We are experiencing freezing rain,
that'll subsequently turn to snow again;
thanks to climate change, the weather's insane.
Global warming could be postponing Spring;
it seems to be affecting everything.
And yet, I pray to God that it isn't so!
We'll need to persevere; we're nearing May,
let's hope Spring's merely late and not withdrawn.
Spring has not arrived yet; that much is plain,
but the weather can be a tricky thing;
I'm hoping, any day now, she will show.
To make amends,
to soothe hurts with a vow,
the most opportune time,
my friend, is now.
Postponing kindness,
we hesitantly wait.
Tomorrow, as always
comes too late.
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